


Speak for the Dead

by TheTurtleFromHell



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Backstory, Closeted Character, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23574889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTurtleFromHell/pseuds/TheTurtleFromHell
Summary: There was a time when she had a life, when she was just a little less mad. And then it all went downhill.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	1. Nice to Meet You

“I need a spell to make me love women.”

Miranda blinked at the man, taken aback by the request, “Pardon?”

She had set up shop in a little seaside town, peddling potions and spells under the guise of a young lady peddling simple tonics. The local priest was none the wiser, and the townsfolk paid a pretty penny for her magic. But this one, the burly young man with brunette hair tied in a shaggy ponytail, had caught her off guard.

“My grandmother isn’t long for this world, and her dying wish is to see me marry,” he explained, nervously picking at his nails, “But I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love. The problem isn’t that there aren’t nice women in this town, there’s plenty like Lorena, and Abigail, and Heidi, but my problem is that I…” his voice lowers to a shamed mumble, “I like the nice men, and not the nice women…”

“I see…” she hums, brushing a strand of her auburn red hair behind her ear, “Then your solution is simple.”

The man looks up, beaming with a hopeful smile as she rummages through her bag. 

“Here.” she says, handing him the item that would solve his problems. He looked down at the hand mirror in his hands cluelessly, silent for a moment.

“Is… is it a magic mirror?” he asks.

“Of sorts.” she smiles, “Hold it up so you’re looking yourself in the face, and repeat these words. ‘I am in love with women’.”

The man nodded, taking a deep breath and holding the mirror up, “I am in love with women.”

“There.” she says, grabbing her pipe and lighting it with a purple flame from her finger, “Now just repeat that throughout your courting and marriage and the rest of your life and you’ll be good.”

The man blinked, his confusion turning to embarrassment once he realized the jig, “Hey, this isn’t magic!”

“I think some would argue that deception could be like magic.” she replies coolly, blowing out a puff of smoke.

“But I don’t want deception,” he argues, “I don’t want to live a lie!”

  
  


Miranda sighed, holding her head in her hand, “Listen, love is something that comes from the soul, and the soul is something not even the greatest magicians can change.”

“What about love potions?” he inquires, “Would those work?”

“‘Love potions’ are just another name for potions that make you mindless and obedient.” she rolled her eyes, taking another drag from her pipe, “Trust me, you don’t want that.”

“Oh…” is all he says. The silence between them is unbearably awkward as the man stares at his lap, brows furrowed and eyes revealing a troubled mind.

“Listen,” she sighs, crossing her legs, “I know it’s horrible, but your only options are either being honest with yourself and perhaps moving to a place more accommodating of your wants, or live a lie to please those you love.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, “I… see.” he says, standing and moving to leave the tent. Just as she does, an idea suddenly goes off in her head.

“Wait!” she calls, “Perhaps I can help you.”

The man paused, looking back to her before sitting back down on the cushion, “What is it?”

“I may not be in your shoes at the exact moment, in fact, I don’t even relate to your problem of liking men.”

Again he stared at her blankly, before his eyes widened, “Wait, you’re-?”

“Yup.” she nods, “Let’s just say, the nuns at my childhood Church were very disturbed when they found out my reasons for wanting to become one.”

She could still remember the sweet taste of strawberries on her first love’s mouth, before the Mother Superior walked into the closet and screeched in horror.

“So, how will you help me?” he asks eagerly.

“Simple. Marry me.”

Again, there was that dumb, clueless look on his face, “But… you don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to know you, this isn’t a marriage of love.” she said, tapping out the ashes from her pipe, “It’s one of convenience that can save both of our hides.”

“I don’t know…” he mutters.

“It will be fine. If you find a man you like, he can visit us from time to time and no one will suspect a thing because we’re married, the same deal for me and women.” she explains, “I don’t expect you to answer right away-”

“Yes.”

This time, it was Miranda’s turn to look lost, “What?”

“Yes, I’ll marry.” he smiles, “You’re the first person I’ve met like me, the only one in the whole town who can understand me. So, yes, I’ll marry you, um… what’s your name?”

She shook her head, laughing softly, “Miranda.”

“Lukas.” he replies, “Let’s get married, shall we?”


	2. Wedding Bells

“Absolutely not!” the old lady screeched, smacking the floor with her cane. Lukas flinched at the outburst, but Miranda remained steadfast.

“I beg you to reconsider Ms. Klien,” she replied coolly, linking her arms around Lukas’, “We’re in love, can’t you see it? I’ve never felt this way before, but I’m certain this is what it feels like when people speak of their soulmates.”

His grandmother, Agatha he said her name was, scoffed, “My grandson is not marrying some peddler who just waltzed into town.”

Miranda tilted her head innocently, “Don’t you remember me? Oh no, it was such a long time ago I doubt it.” she chuckled, “My father stayed here for a week when I was twelve, and your grandson was so nice to me. You’ve raised a good gentleman,” she says, patting his shoulder, “I was never able to get him off my mind since then, which is why I returned.”

“That’s right!” Lukas piped in, “We spoke for some time and realized we had a lot in common, and after we talked some more we fell in love.”

“Regardless, this isn’t a fairytale.” Agatha argued, looking the young woman up and down, “Look at this girl, you think she had a proper upbringing? You think she knows how to properly serve her husband and mother children when she doesn’t even look like she can work a stove!”

Miranda thought about saying some rather unkind things about her appearance as well, but held her tongue.

“I am not giving you my blessing!”

“Grandma Aggie, please-”

“And that’s final!”

“Fine,” Miranda shrugged, “Then we’ll just elope.”

“WHAT!?” the two whipped their heads around. She gave Lukas a glare that said ‘play along or I’ll rip out your tongue’.

He blinked at her, swallowing hard, “You heard her, we’ll elope.” he said as he straightened himself, “We’ll find a place of our own and settle down there if you won’t welcome her.”

She grit her old, cracked teeth, “You wouldn’t. Not after everything I’ve done for you!”

“Watch me.” he challenged, standing up and turning towards the door.

“Wait!” Agatha cried out, pausing to clear her throat, “Perhaps… perhaps we can work something out.”

* * *

And so they married. It was a simple wedding, one celebrated in plainclothes and without a dowry. Miranda wished they could have at least gotten a bottle of nice wine as a wedding present, but she wasn’t pushing her luck.

After the sunset, Grandma Aggie spent the night at a family friend’s house to give the couple their privacy for their honeymoon night… which was spent playing cards.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Miranda shouted, raising her hands in victory, “Another round won!”

“You’re impossible to beat.” Luka sighed, holding a hand to his forehead, “How the hell do you do it?”

“I learned many tricks in my time on the road and spent time in bars,” she says, taking a sip of cheap mead she had bought from the tavern, “There’s really not much else to do other than play cards, you get the hang of it real fast.”

“Well that’s hardly fair.” he chuckles, tapping the cards into a neat stack, “I’ve never even been outside this town.”

“No kidding,” she arches a brow in amusement, “You sure had me fooled.”

“Well, I never had much reason to leave.” he shrugs, adding “But it is a nice town.”

“I guess.” she concedes, “So tell me a bit about yourself.”

“Don’t people usually do this before marriage?” he chuckles, before humming in thought, “Well, my father died in war and my mother died in childbirth while she was having me. I was named after him, my father I mean. Grandmother fishes in the freshwater river a few miles away to support us.”

“You don’t work?” she asks, handing him the bottle.

“She won’t let me, she says the boats are too dangerous for me to work on, and signing up to be a soldier is out of the question.” he takes a large slug, “So I just stay home and do the chores all day.”

Suddenly, his cluelessness made a lot more sense.

“What about you?” he asks as he hands back the bottle, “What led you to this little town?”

“Well, as I said, I got caught doing the tongue tango with a girl in my class and had to make a run for it. After that, I was taken in by this group of travelling scholars before heading out on my own in pursuit of more knowledge.”

“Wow,” he breathes, “You sound like an adventurous heroine.”

“More like a feral and unhinged wild woman, but either title will do.” she smiled coyly, “So, do you think Grandma Aggie will come around to me?”

He hummed in thought, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, “Probably not,” he sighed, “But you’re my wife now, so she’ll tolerate you at least.”

“And so I shall tolerate her in return.” she said, raising her bottle to cheer to it.

He chuckled, holding his head in his hand, “So, will you tell me more about your magic?”

“Actually, about that...” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, “I’m a forgemaster.”

He blinked, “A what now?”

“It’s… oh how do I explain it?” she huffed, “To put it simply, I can take a soul from Hell and put it in a corpse to make a demon.”

“I see.” he nods.

“... that doesn’t phase you in the least?” she cocked a brow.

“Well, if I’m going to Hell for homosexuality, it might as well be I marry a dark magician.” he said matter of factly, holding out his hand for the bottle.

“Fair point.” she conceded, handing it over.

“So have you made a lot of demons or what?”

“A few,” she admits, “Mostly for protection while traveling. Besides that I use my magic to light fires and make charms and wards to sell.”

“Nifty,” he says with a hint of amusement, “So, will you tell me about your travels to far off lands and daring adventures of seducing nuns?”

“Of course.” she laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> their dynamic is just dumbass gay and chaotic lesbian


	3. Tittle-Tattle

Married life brought with it routine, but never boredom. 

There were creatures from the deep she had never seen before caught in the fishermen’s nets, merchants that came from far off lands by ship to sell their goods, and she could always rely on some gossip from the old ladies if a day proved particularly slow.

As for Miranda and her mother-in-law, they had learned to tolerated each other and… well, they tolerated each other.

As she boiled tea for her in-law and all her friends, she eavesdropped on all the juicy rumors they had picked up.

“I saw Friar Brian paying for a large shipment of meat this morning.” Delilah, the scrawny old neighbor said as she shook her head, “Judging by all that fat under his robes, I don’t think it’s going to the needy.”

“How awful.” Agatha scoffed, “Really, someone ought to report him to the Abbot.”

“And what will he do?” Trudy, a plump woman herself, posed, “He’ll ask for a share of the meat and be on his way. The Churchmen these days don’t even try to hide the luxuries our taxes pay for.”

“Well now, don’t let anyone hear you!” Delilah scolded, “They’ll whip your feet for even saying such a thing!”

“Let them,” she said, “I can’t even feel if I stepped on a nail, so I’ll take my whipping and shed some fake tears like I did with my mother wheneverI got in trouble.”

“Still such a rowdy tomgirl.” Agatha sighed.

“Always was, always will be.” Trudy proclaimed. Miranda liked Trudy.

“The tea will take another few minutes, but I’ve got some cheese if anyone feels peckish.” Miranda said as she walked over, placing a plate of sliced cheese down.

Agatha frowned, “I thought we were saving it for a special occasion?”

“Well I didn’t want to keep it in there until it was moldy.” she explained as she sat, “

“...I suppose you’re right.” she conceded as she took a piece for herself. Miranda smiled to herself.

“You know, I heard some noblemen are looking to purchase that barren valley to the east of us,” Julie said, pausing to swallow, “Wouldn’t that be nice? If they started some plantations or even a market up there, it would bring more business.” 

“That’s ridiculous.” Miranda rolled her eyes. 

The three women looked to her in confusion, Agatha glaring at her for speaking out of turn.

“Why is that ridiculous?” Trudy asked.

“Because it will give incentive for the Styrians to invade,” she explained matter-of-factly, “They haven’t had a war for some time, and God knows they’re just itching for any reason to come across our borders. When they see our towns becoming wealthy, they’ll come and kill the nobleman, and us too just to prove they can.”

The women all sat in silence more a moment, before Trudy nodded understandingly, “I suppose she’s right.” she hums in thought.

“Who’d have ever guessed there was an upside to being a poor fishing town?” Julie laughed, breaking the tense atmosphere. Agatha didn’t agree, but she didn’t disagree either.

“Now that I think about it, this has always been such a nice safe town.” Trudy says, “A robbery here and there, but nothing the soldier’s can’t handle.”

“A good place to raise kids.” Agatha agreed, looking to Miranda with a coy smile, “Speaking of which, are my grandkids coming anytime soon?”

Oh right, the price she had to pay for getting to be part of their circle… their endless questioning about her sex life.

Despite the disgust brewing in her stomach, Miranda forced a smile and shrugs, “We’re working on it.” she says, trying to keep this short.

“You and Lukas should look into this wisewoman up north,” she continued, “She helped Delilah and Jacob conceive twin boys.”

Julie piped in as well, much to Miranda’s horror, “Oh right! What was it she told them to try? Boiling catmint in wine?”

“That’s right, he had to drink it on an empty stomach for three days.” Trudy nodded.

“You know more often than not it’s a problem with the womb,” Agatha added (because God forbid anything was her grandson’s fault), “Have you tried-?”

“Oh will you listen to that, I think the tea is almost ready!” Miranda said as she quickly got up and ran to the sanctuary of the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In-Laws, amiright? ... i'll see myself out


	4. Fork

There are several times in life where there comes a fork in the road, and a choice must be made. People only remember one or two forks in their lives out of possibly hundreds.

For Miranda, that time came shortly after she had turned thirty, when her fifth anniversary was around the corner.

It hadn’t seemed like an important day. She had gone to market and Lukas had gone to his work on the dock as usual. The sun was blazing, the market was lacking in variety, and even the local gossipers had nothing to offer.

Miranda pushed open the front door, calling out “Aggie, I’m home!” as she dropped the groceries onto the table. There was no reply, but Miranda thought nothing of it. It wasn’t unusual for the old lady to nap during the day time.

“Aggie!” she says louder as she pushes open the bedroom door, “What do you want for-?”

The sight of her mother-in-law on the floor, breathing hard and shallow with skin deathly pale greets her. Her heart drops into her stomach, then somehow manages to keep dropping as if her insides have become a bottomless pit.

She somehow finds her legs and her voice as she bolts back into the streets, screaming for help. Everything is loud and silent at the same time as neighbors rush to her aid, helping the dying woman onto her bed as another runs to fetch one of the nuns, the closest thing to a doctor they have.

“Miranda?” Mrs. Riley says as she gently shakes her from her trance, “Are you alright dear?”

“I need to find Lukas.” he mutters as she stumbles out the door.

* * *

Miranda is not a woman who often prays, as she doubts God even listens to heretics like her. She hopes she is wrong as she prays for the strength to keep running, ignoring the pains in her chest from her hard breathing. 

When she makes it to the docks, she falls into the arms of the first dock worker she sees, her tired aching legs begging for a break, “Where is Lukas?” she breathlessly asks.

The dockworker blinks at her, before calling out “Luke! Your wife is here!” as he carefully brings her to a crate for her to sit down on. As she catches her breath, she hears footsteps rapidly approaching, stopping beside her just as a hand grabs her shoulder, “Miranda, what happened? Are you okay?” he asks, nervousness radiating from his voice.

She swallows her, wetting her throat and lips before speaking, “Aggie, she’s not well.”

She looks up in time to see his paleing face, and expression of dread coming over his face.

“How bad is it?” he asks, but if the tone of his voice is anything to go by he already knows.

“She needs you Lukas.” is all she says. 

When the ache in her leg subsides, she starts the walk back with him, not a word between them the entire way home. His expression is hollow, hands clenched at his side. By the time there’s a gathering of people attracted by the commotion. Some try to ask them about the situation, but Lukas wordlessly pushes past them all and opens the door, letting Miranda inside before shutting and locking it.

There’s a priest, Father Thomas, and Mrs. Riley at her bedside, but as she sees them she grabs her coat, “My prayers are with you.” is all she says as she takes her leave.

“Grandma,” Lukas says softly as he sits at her bedside, holding her hand in his, “I’m here Grandma, I’m here.”

Aggie doesn’t even acknowledge him, just keeps staring at the ceiling as her breaths grow more shallow and slow.

Miranda watches only for a second before whispering to the priest, “I need a smoke.” and leaves for the back door. Usually Father Thomas would chastise her that smoking was an activity of the devil’s, but thankfully he let her go without a word this time. She slips around to the back of the house, pulling her pipe from her pocket, hand shaking as she summons a small flam to her fingertips and lights her pipe. She takes a long drag, relishing in how the herbs burn her lungs, before blowing the smoke from her lips. She watches it disappear into the orange sky, the sun setting and shadows growing longer as it dips below the horizon. The sunset feels ominous, as if the moment the sun disappears so will the breath of life from Aggie.

Miranda stays outside even as the stars and planets dot the sky, staring at them as she tries to push every startling thought from her head.

The back door suddenly opens, and a puffy-eyed Lukas steps out with a grim expression.

“I’m sorry.” she says, mad at herself for being unable to think of anything else to say. Words of comfort escape her no matter how hard she tries to grab them.

Luka said nothing as he walked over and grabbed her hand, placing a coin satchel into her palm before closing her fingers around it, “Here.”

She blinked, looking between him and the pouch in confusion, “What are you…?”

“My grandmother is gone.” he said, taking a deep shuddering breath, “You don’t have to… I don’t want you to keep up this charade for my sake.”

“Hang on, are you,” her chest tightened as she was overwhelmed with a mix of confusion and hurt, “Are you telling me to leave?”

“I’m giving you the chance to.” he replied calmly, “You could leave, tell everyone you’re off to visit a distant aunt. A few days later I’ll tell everyone you got ambushed by bandits and that will be it.”

“But what about you?” she pressed, “Will you marry someone else?”

Lukas smiled sadly and shook his head, “No, I’d hate to trap anyone in a loveless marriage. Which is why I’m letting you go.”

Miranda could have tricked herself into believing it was an easy choice, but it wasn’t. The roads called for her, her bones were aching for some adventure. She dreamed of far off places and her magic itched to be free after being hidden for so long... 

And yet her heart wanted to remain rooted in what had become home.

She pushed the pouch of coins back into his hands before it could tempt her into making a mistake, “No.”

“No?” he echoed, sounding genuinely surprised.

“This isn’t exactly a… loveless marriage.” she says as she tries to find her words, “I... care for you, like a big sister would.”

Lukas laughed dryly, “You better not let anyone else hear you say that, or we might be the town scandal for an entirely different reason.” 

They share a short laugh, giggling and snorting until he clears his throat, “Well, my offer will always be open to you.” he says as he tucks the coins into his pocket, “If you ever want to leave, just take the coins and go, alright?”

“Sounds fair.” she nods, tapping the ashes out of her pipe. 

Wrapping an arm around each other, they head back inside together.


	5. Pleasantries

There’s an old saying that says that one day you’ll look around and see you have more years behind you than ahead of you. Miranda thought about more with each grey hair and wrinkle that appeared.

As Miranda got ready to head to market, she heard Lukas coming in the front door, “Was your fishing successful?” she asks.

“Not really.” he sighs as he walks over, holding up the empty trap, “Something must be wrong with this old thing, I haven’t caught a single fish.”

“Here, let me see.” she said as she took and turned it in her hands, humming in thought, “Ah, I see what’s wrong.” 

“What is it?”

She looked up to him with a smug smile, “You forgot to put in the bait.” she said, playfully shoving it back into his hands. 

Lukas fumbled and smiled sheepishly, “Ah.” he says as he rubs the back of his neck, “See, I knew something must be wrong.”

“Shut up and go catch me dinner.” she laughed as she pinched his cheek, heading out the door with him and parting as they locked it.

Over the years the market had grown more crowded with bustling businesses. Miranda missed the days of simple shops, but was content with the change despite it. Villages were living things, they grew and changed until eventually they died off.

As Miranda was browsing a selection of fruit, she took notice of a child standing next to her. She recognized the girl as their neighbor Kelly’s daughter Maria, four years of age if she remembered correctly. 

Miranda smiled politely at the little girl, who smiled back.

“Are you a witch?” she asked innocently. Her mother who had been in the next stall over, whirled around and gasped, “Maria Ann Riley, don’t say such things!”

“The nuns said it first!” the girl argued with a huff.

Miranda couldn’t help but laugh, “It’s alright, Ms. Riley.” she said, looking down at the girl, “You know what, I actually am a witch.”

Maria gasped excitedly, “You are?”

“Yes,” she nods, “And if you aren’t a good girl and behave for your mother, I’ll come and eat your toes in the middle of the night and use your eyes for potions.”

The girl squealed and giggled as she hid behind her mom, “You’re just being silly!” she says, though she sounds a bit uncertain with her statement.

“Maybe.” she winks at the girl before looking back to Kelly, “You have a fine day now.”

“You too.” she smiled back, waving goodbye as she continued on her way.

* * *

The smell of cooked fish and roasting vegetables filled the air as the anchovies roasted above on the oven rack, on top of a small fireplace. Miranda rocked on her front porch in one of a pair of rocking chairs gifted to her by a carpenter who had moved in down the street, and who had wanted to make a good impression on his neighbors. She couldn’t recall what he had told her his name was, but in her opinion he made a damn good impression.

“Enjoying that rocking chair?” asked the carpenter as he walked by her home, carrying lumber on his broad shoulders.

“You truly are a man of talent,” she chuckles as she watched him walk by, “This chair feels like it was gifted by the angels themselves for my old bones.”

“That might just be the best comment I’ve had on my work.” he beams, “You have yourself a good one, Ms. Miranda.”

“You as well.” she says as she shut her eyes and enjoys the evening sun. Then she heard the giggle of boys around the corner of her house. 

Sighing, she opened an eye, “Either cease your racket or go have your fun elsewhere.”

The giggles stopped, then came the sound of approaching footsteps. She looked to see a small boy, an eight year old named Thomas, fidgeting nervously as he kept glancing back at the other boys.

“Well?” she says as she sits up straight, feigning impatience.

Little Thomas gulped, “We, um, I was uh…” he looked to the ground as he mustered up every bit of his little boy courage, “How old are you?”

“Let’s see…” she hums, “What’s the year?”

Thomas looked back to one of the boys, who whispered the answer to him, “1445.” he answered.

Miranda tapped her finger as she mumbled numbers to herself, “That makes me… about three thousand years old, dear.”

The boy gasped excitedly, returning to his playmates as he joyfully declared “I told you! I told you she was older than Christ!”

She chuckled to herself as she emptied the ashes from her pipe, tucking it into her sleeves as she went inside, “I’m not sure if I should be offended or flattered that the children of this town believe I’m older than Christ.”

“I think it’s a compliment,” Luke says as he plates their food, “Aren’t immortals supposed to be voluptuous vixens who keep their good looks for all eternity?”

“My God, please don’t use that string of words ever again.” she laughs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “You sound like a monk trying to write erotic novela.” 

“You wound me.” he says as he walks over and sets down their meals.

“A celibate monk.” she adds as she sits at the table, “And the only woman he’d ever seen was his own mother.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “You’re too much Miranda.” he said as he sat, stabbing a piece of potato with his fork and popping it into his mouth.

The old forgemaster smiled knowingly, grabbing the pitcher of water and pouring herself a glass, “Anything interesting on the docks today?”

“Actually…” he begins rather hesitantly, “I ran into Martin.”

Miranda’s eyes widened slightly, “Really?”

Martin had been one of Luke’s secret partners, a traveler who had stopped into town years back and lodged at their residence for a week. A brief yet passionate affair, one that in a more accepting world could have blossomed into something more.

“Well… how is he?” she asked cautiously.

“Fine.” Luke replies rather dejectedly, “We went to the bar to catch up. He has a wife and daughter now, said he loves the little lass with all his heart.”

“Lukas,” she breathes, touching his hand.

“It’s fine.” he snaps as he pulls back his hand, “I’m happy for him, I truly am. He’s in a good place.”

“That’s good.” she hums in thought, “But you know, happy and sad are not opposites. They can occur alongside each other.”

He purses his lips in thought, staring at his food in thought, “Would it be nice,” he says, “If in another life, we could live as we pleased, loving whoever we choose without fear of being burned or tortured, without shame?”

“It would be very nice,” she replies, brushing a lock of hair from his face, “If only.” she sighs solemnly.

Lukas stares at his food in thought, “This is nice too.” he says after a bit, “Even if I had to live another life in hiding, if it was with you I’d take it. You’re my best friend Miranda.”

She chuckles and smacks his hand playfully, “Nonsense.” she murmurs, “You’re just being a sappy old man.”

They laugh, the mood lifted by their melancholy merriment…

Until the moment is shattered, quite literally by something breaking through their window.

“ _ JESUS CHRIST _ !” she shouts in surprise, heart leaping into her chest as she leaps to her feet.

As the couple rush to the window to assess the damage, Miranda’s first thought is an unapproving citizen or a mischievous child throwing a rock through the window, until they come across a twitching mass of black feathers laying among the broken glass.

“Just a bird,” Luke breathes as he kneels down. It’s a raven, bleeding out from somewhere under its feathers as it lays dying, “Poor fella.”

“Right…” she says as she looks at the bird in thought. Another old saying occurred to her in that moment, an old superstition that said a bird hitting a window brought with it an omen of bad things to come. 

An unshakeable sense of unease weighs heavy on her the entire night.


	6. Hell Breaks Loose

When the morning sun rose, more dark omens came with it.

Ravens sat atop every home, sat on every stall counter. Their caws were loud and piercing as they called to one another, as if impatient about something. The birds weren’t the only ones to be unsettled, as more people than usual attended morning mass. The small church could barely contain the crowd, as the doors had to be left open so that some people could just stand in the entryway when they ran out of pews.

Miranda watched the scene unfold from her rocking chair, puffing on her pipe in thought.

“It’s probably a dead whale on one of the shores.” Lukas said as he rocked next to her, though he sounded like he was trying to convince himself of the same thing.

“Perhaps.” she says, sighing as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

He looked to her with worry in his eyes, “Are you alright?”

“Just a migraine, is all.” she muttered as her temples began to throb. In all honesty it was more than that. There was a heaviness in the air that was settling in her old bones, making them feel heavier than they had any right to. A hot chill ran through her body, making every nerve stand on edge as if waiting for something.

She had experienced this feeling before when her aura was thrown off, be it by the natural flow of energy in the world or a hex cast by a scorned lover. However, it had never been this intense before.

“I think I need to rest,” she sighs as she stands, unsteady on her feet.

Lukas stood immediately, grabbing her and helping her up, “Come on,” he urged as they walked inside, “Let’s get you settled in.” 

She nodded weakly, shuffling to the bed in a daze and collapsing onto the sheets.

“I think there’s some leftover opium somewhere.” Lukas said to himself as he went to search for it.

Miranda sighed as her eyes drifted shut, hoping to find some relief in slumber...

-

_ The living dead. A legion of walking corpses, suffering bodies denied death day in and day out. A city of the damned, ruled by insane aristocracy. Its downfall lead by a blade of red and black. _

“Miranda,” Lukas whispers as he gently shakes her awake. The moment she opens her eyes the dreams are forgotten, unable to be held like smoke.

She grumbles as she awakes, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

“I forgot to get more opium the other day,” he says, obviously feeling guilty about doing so, “I’m going to get more, alright?”

At that moment she wants to beg him to stay, but for what reason she doesn’t know. All she can think is that once he goes out those doors, he’ll never come back through them.

Instead, she says “Have a safe trip.”

He laughs a bit at that, “I’ll do my best.” he tells her as he pulls the blankets on top of her, blowing out the candle on his way out.

As the door clicks shut, she mutters to herself, “Stupid, worrying girl… Stop having such silly thoughts…” and drifts off to sleep, back into anxious sleep.

-

Instead of being awoken by Lukas or even nightmares, it was the sound of screams that tore her from her slumber. Miranda gasped as she sat up, eyes widening at the glowing green light coming from the window. She rushed over to it, heart pounding in her chest and entire body aching, only to see nightmares outside her window rather than in her head.

Soldiers with glowing crowns of thorns marched through bloodied streets, capturing and tying up whatever person was unfortunate enough to cross their paths before hauling them off to God knows where.

Miranda quickly ducked before one of the enthralled soldiers could spot her. The air was buzzing with powerful energy.

“ _ Shit _ ,” she hissed under her breath, “Shit, shit, shit.”

Ignoring her arthritic knees protesting it, she crawls across the floor to the kitchen, grabbing a scaling knife from the counter. She focused hard, summoning violet flames to the blade. It wasn’t much, but it’d be enough to find Lukas and protect them from whatever the fuck was going on.

She cracked the front door open to peek out. There were less screams now. She couldn’t help but stare in horror as her neighbors walked down the street in single file lines. Women, children, elderly, all marching towards whatever fate their captor held for them.

She pushed open the door a little more, getting to her feet and slipping out, edging along the walls. Everyone kept their heads forward, their haunting empty gazes never turning in her direction.

Miranda breathed a sigh of relief and turned into one of the alleys. Weaving through the routes she had walked in her youth as to not get caught smoking by the nuns or priests, she kept peeking out at the streets for any sign of her husband.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm. She cried out as his grip tightened, leaving bruises on her fragile skin. She turned to face her attacker, the carpenter who had gifted her rocking chair, the eye on his crown of swords staring at her intently along with his own glowing pair. What she saw in his eyes was not the gentle, compassionate man she knew. Rather, she felt like she was staring into the eyes of Hell itself.

Miranda reacted quickly, summoning her magic to the blade and burying it into the man’s chest. He let out a single cry as his body contorted, bones and flesh breaking apart and knitting back together. She stumbled back as he let go, breathing heavily as the gargoyle stood before her.

“Protect me.” she commanded, before continuing on her way.

She realized that whoever was controlling the crowns of thorns must be able to see through them, because before she knew it more people began filing into the alley, trying and failing to corner her. Her gargoyle fought them off best it could, but it was becoming overwhelmed by sheer numbers as some of the citizens managed to slip past it.

Miranda hardened herself as she plunged the blade into the chests of the people she had come to care about, as she was forced to look into their eyes as their bodies became vessels for her night creatures.

At last, her rebellion was large enough to fight properly. The enthralled, seemingly realizing they were not equipped to fight such creatures, turned and fled.

“Coward!” she shouted angrily, hoping whoever was controlling them could hear as well as see. She ran out into the street, emboldened by her bodyguards as something inside her told her to keep going, to keep searching for her best friend, her only friend.

She made it to the main square when she saw the magician, watching as his new slaves joined his own.

She stopped, eyes searching the crowd frantically until-

“Lukas!” she called out. The magician and his slaves all turned towards her along with Lukas.

The hope that had swelled in her heart had been crushed the moment she saw his glowing green eyes stare into hers.

“Luke, no…” she whispered, struggling to speak back the tightness in her chest as her eyes blurred with tears. She had never felt so small and useless before in her life.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the magician glance between them before Lukas began walking to her with a determined gait, completely silent.

“Damn it Lukas, don’t…” she pleaded, trembling hands tightening around the knife.

He said nothing still, his gaze fixed on her as she began to back away slowly.

“Luke, for the love of God!” she sobbed, “I’m fucking begging you, get ahold of yourself! PLEASE!”

All Hell broke loose.

He charged her. It all happened so fast. He grabbed her by the arms, tackling her with such force that she fell. At the same time, there were things she could remember in slow motion, such as the sickening sound of the cleaver slicing through his skin. Finally, there was some semblance of a reaction from him as he gasped, the awful sound of choking on blood, eyes widening as purple flames consumed his flesh.

She hit the ground, hard. Distantly she felt the back of her head break open on the hard cobblestone ground. Blood splattered onto her face, continued to fall in waterfalls from his slashed neck down and onto her chest before her magic shut the wounds, flesh knitting back together as it changed and transformed.

Her ears rang, but she could still hear his screams of agony before they shifted into animalistic growls. She wanted to tear her eyes away, to shut them so that she’d prevent the sight from being burned into her mind for years to come, but she was unable to do so.

Then there was a warg with glowing violet eyes, panting and growling above her. It backed off, allowing her to use it’s sturdy body to pull herself back up to her feet.

She stared at her creation silently, before turning to where the magician stood.

He watched her with a thoughtful expression, eyes squinted as if sizing her up. His army stared at her silently, as if ready to spring like wind-up toys at his command.

“Do it.” she challenged, swallowing hard, “Come at me with everything you’ve got, I’ll take every one of your soldiers for myself! Do it, motherfucker, DO IT!”

He scoffed indignantly, like he was more annoyed more than anything else. He raised one of his hands, and at that two of his slaves helped him over and into a carraige, the others turning and walking down the path and following it. She watched him disappear over the horizon, and stayed watching even after that.

“... goddamn it all.” she murmurs under her breath.

No one but her creations hear her in the now empty town.


	7. The Stranger

Miranda sat on her porch with her warg curled up at her side like an old dog, smoking on her pipe as she watched the ocean. The rocking chair that used to sit beside her had been destroyed and used for kindling years ago.

The afternoon sun was mostly blocked out by clouds, allowing a pleasant breeze to pass through the empty village. Miranda sighed, blowing a cloud of smoke and watching as it disappeared, “... I miss the merchants that used to pass through here.” she laments, “They always had something interesting, whether it was a product or a tale to tell at the tavern. You remember that, right Lukas?”

Lukas looked up at her for a moment, before laying his head back down.

“... God I could use a drink.” she sighed, pushing off on her foot to rock a bit more.

Suddenly Lukas picked his head up, looking down the street and growling. Miranda followed his gaze, leaning forward on her chair to get a better look.

There was a man coming down the street, an oddly dressed one full of treasure and trinkets. He stopped upon seeing the forgemaster and her night creature, eyes wide as he raised his hands as a show of meaning no harm. Miranda watched him for a moment, before looking at her warg, “Down, boy.”

Lukas huffed, laying back down as Miranda called to the man, “He won’t attack!” she assured, “At least, he won’t as long as you don’t try anything!”

“Oh you don’t have to worry about that!” the man said as he approached cautiously, “That’s a uh, very nice dog you have there.”

“He’s not a dog, he’s a night creature.” she says as she pets his head, “A warg to be precise.”

“Most people would be hesitant to share their demons.” he says as he leans against the sea wall, side-eying Lukas the entire time. The warg returned the suspicious look.

“Well, who are you going to report me to?” she asks, motioning around at the empty village, “The fish? The seagulls?”

“Fair point.” he concedes. “This place is rather run down. No offense to you.”

“None taken.” she sighs as she taps the ashes from her pipe, refilling it with a satchel of herbs from her pocket, “What brings you to my corner of the world?”

“Well, I’m looking for something.” he says as he walks up, jumping back as Luke gives a warning growl, “Problem is, it moves.”

“A place that moves…” she hums in thought, “Castlevania?”

“God no, I’m not crazy.” he says, “Have you heard of the Infinite Corridor?”

Miranda barks out a laugh, “Ha! And you said you weren’t crazy!” she says with delight, patting her chest as her laughter trails off, “You hear that Luke?”

The man frowned and crossed his arms.

“Relax, you’re in the presence of a fellow mad magician.” she chuckles, tilting her head in thought, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Ah, you caught me.” he chuckled as he idly kicked a rock, pacing in a flamboyant manner as if he was unable to keep still, “I’m actually from England. Lovely place really, but terribly overcrowded.”

“That’s not what I meant.” she said plainly.

The man paused and looked to her, cocking a brow, “What are you getting at?”

“The only people interested in the Infinite Corridor are looking for it for three reasons.” she said as she tapped the ashes from her pipe, “They want to go to another world, they want to summon something from another world, ooor…” she draws out her conclusion, just to enjoy his confused expression a little longer, “They want to return to their world.”

“You are an… observant woman.” he observes as he walks over, “Who are you?”

“An old witch doomed to die alone and haunt this place until end times.” she replies as she stands, “Would you like to come in for some tea?”

“Witches only give out tea when they expect something in return.” the man says.

She smiles, “Perhaps.” she says as she goes inside, Luke following behind her, “What is your name?”

“Count Saint Germain.” he said as he bowed his head, “And you?”

“Miranda.” she replies as she grabbed a kettle of water and placed it over the fire pit, lighting it with a flame from her finger. Saint Germain sits at the table, looking a little uncomfortable as Luke walks and sits under it.

“Do tell me all about yourself and the world you’re from.” Miranda prompts, rather intrigued by the mysterious stranger.

“Well,” he says as he sits, “The world where I’m from in a sort of… steam-powered society if you will. Also, gravity worked differently. We had it so that on any surface in any direction you could walk on, be it upside down or sideways. It helped to create more space in an already crowded world.”

“Interesting.” she hums.

“I was a scientist in this world.” he continued as he looked around the dilapidated house, “And I know for a fact that there are patterns in the universe. Everything has already been done and will be done again. While our technology was advanced but… it was lagging.” he sighed.

“Such is the pitfall of progress.” she hums in thought, “It does not move at the speed you want it to go.”

“Indeed.” he chuckles, “And I wanted to improve it. I wanted to know as much about the universe as I could and map out every reality and gateway, to find a way to connect worlds. My daughter warned me that my research was getting dangerous but... I was so close figuring out, I knew it was only a matter of time before time and space could bend to our will… or at least, I thought it could…” 

Miranda frowned, “What happened?”

The same thing that happens to every scientist,” he chuckles, “I got lost in my work, and now I am desperate to find a way back.”

The whistle of the tea kettle interrupted their conversation. Miranda walks back over to the kettle, wrapping her hand in her apron before removing it from the fire, “Have you any luck?” she scoops a spoonful of tea leaves into the boiling water, stirring it lightly. She takes a strainer out of the drawer, holding over each cup as she pours the tea.

“I’ve had a few leads,” he said in a disappointed manner, “But no sign of an opening yet.”

“I see.” she says as she walks over with their cups, blowing on hers before taking a sip.

Saint Germain stares at his cup in thought, before taking something from his pocket, “See this?” he asks as he opens his hand, revealing a small opal. Miranda picked it up, turning in the light as she squinted at the precious stone.

“What’s it for?”

“It can be used to detect the energy of the Corridor.” he explained, “I had recently picked up on a large amount of energy some miles away from here, but when I investigated all I found was a Legion.”

“A what?” she blinks. He meets her gaze with equal confusion.

“You mean you haven’t seen that town full of magically enslaved folks? As close as you live to it?”

Miranda’s eyes widened in shock, her heart dropping into her stomach, “Are they… do they have a crown of thorns on their heads?”

“Ah, so you do know about it.” he folds his hands together, “Can’t blame you for not knowing the term. Not many magicians know how to create Legions, and those that do don’t like sharing their secrets.”

Miranda’s stomach churned, chest becoming tight as she recalled the sight of those glowing, empty eyes.

“Miranda?” Saint Germain calls, a hint of concern in his voice, “You alright?”

“What is he doing with them?” she asks, voice trembling from the building dread inside of her, “What is he doing with my neighbors?”

The magician hesitates, reluctantly answering, “They are building a city state from the looks of it.”

She feels nauseous, “What condition are they in?”

“I don’t think-”

“ _ What _ ” she repeats firmly in a threatening tone, “Is their condition?”

Under the table, Luke begins to growl, sensing his master’s unsettled aura.”

Saint Germain pressed his lips together, “They… Legions are vessels of intent, a hive mind. Their bodies can be emaciated, subsisting on nearly no food or water. As long as there is magic flowing through them, they are machines with a singular task. I’ve seen members of a Legion live as long as a hundred years before their bodies finally give out.”

“That’s madness…” she says under her breath, her voice becomes frantic as she continues muttering to herself, “He can’t hide such a large settlement from the Styrians. They’re-they’re going to find out if they don’t already know, and they’ll use it as an excuse to expand their borders and destroy everything in their path. Is he that stupid? Is he that insane?”

“Miranda,” he says softly, touching her hand, “Don't get so worked up-”

“ _ DON’T TELL ME NOT TO GET WORKED UP! _ ” she snaps, throwing her cup across the room. It shatters as it hits the wall, contents spilling forth along with her rage, “I knew those people! I loved them, I cared for them! Then that mad bastard came along and enslaved them like livestock, as if their lives were worth nothing but what they could give him!” she shouts, her aura burning brightly as the room swirls with her energy, “And for what!? A city state doomed to fail, with no purpose other than to stroke his fucking ego!?”

Saint Germain scrambles back, pressed against the wall as Luke drools and snarls, trembling like a wound up spring ready to attack at any moment. Miranda watches the terrified man for a moment, then lowers her head.

Her aura disappears, Luke collapsing to the floor as she does the same into her chair, both panting heavily. Saint Germain blinks, mind reeling from the change from feeble woman to powerful magician and back again. He snaps out of his trance as she coughs, rushing over to her side, “Are you alright?”

“No…” she chuckles sadly in between coughs, “I don’t even remember the last time I used that much magic… it’s getting more difficult to use...”

“Oh,” he says softly, eyes widening, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright.” she said as she brushed a stray hair behind her ear, “If I had wanted to, there are things I could have done to stop it from fading over the years. However, I find I don’t have the will to do so. Maybe because the last time I used it, I turned my neighbors and husband into night creatures.” she nods towards Luke, who lays on the floor whimpering.

He glances between her and the night creature, struck by the realizations, “He’s your…?”

She nodded, “I know it’s not his soul in there, I feel bad for desecrating his body in such a horrid way.” she says as tears fill her eyes, “Saint Germain, I know I haven’t been a good host, but may I ask a favor of you?”

“Of course madame.” he says as he holds her hand, “Anything.”

“Kill him for me.” she says, “With my magic fading, it’s becoming painful for him to keep up his existence. .”

“I see…” he says, looking at the warg.

“It’s cowardly, I know, but I don’t have the strength to end his misery myself.” she continues, “Just… if you will, take him to the edge of the sea to do it. He always said he wanted a sea burial.”

“Of course.” he said, walking over to the demon, “Will he…?”

“He’ll let you.” she says, “He knows it’s time.”

With that he picked up the limp demon in his arms and began for the door.

“One more thing.” she said, causing him to stop in his tracks, “Don’t come back.”

He frowned, “Miranda-”

“Please,” she begs in a tired whisper, “For my own good.”

Saint Germain seemed to consider it for a moment, before nodding and continuing out. She follows only to shut the door behind him, looking back at the mess of her kitchen.

“Oh Miranda…” she sighs to herself, “You’ve really done it now…”

The only thing she hears aside from her own swirling thoughts and inner turmoil that night is the roar of the night creature in the distance, crying out with its last breath.


	8. (Not) Alone

She would always be the first to admit she was mad, because she didn’t feel there was any shame in it. Besides, who was around to judge her?

However, the thing about being mad was that it was not a predictable thing. Some days it was easier to deal with than others. She could instill a bit of routine in her life, giving herself little reasons to get out of bed in the mornings instead of laying there and awaiting death. She always did her best to distract herself from the fact she was alone, knowing that if she dwelled on it she's lose all sense and throw herself into the sea.

Today Miranda tells herself she isn’t truly alone, not really. There’s the wind whispering in her ear, the clouds watching over her, the sea speaking its mind day and night. Today, it seems to be in a rather foul mood, waves not quite violent but still crashing against the sea walls quite harshly.

_“Are you trying to sound like a muttering wisewoman on purpose?”_ her own voice asked in her head, _“Going to pick up poetry? Who will you recite it to?”_

‘Shut up.’ she mentally chides it.

 _“Make me.”_ it challenged.

She sighed, “Dear me…” she muttered as she continued to gather bundles of sticks and twigs for her fireplace. She was considering an outdoor fire tonight, reminding herself that it had been a while since she had stargazed.

_“What’s the point? It’s not like the stars are going to disappear any time soon.”_

She doesn’t grace that thought with a response as she heads back to her cottage, passing through the empty streets silently. If she wanted to, she could close her eyes and pretend there were still children running about and making trouble. Perhaps she could imagine that a merchant had come into town with his carriage of goods, causing a stir in the market. This time of year, the nets would bring in fewer amounts of fish, meaning prices would go up. It would be cheaper to purchase bait and catch fish themselves, as long as Luke remembered to-

A cold shudder ran through her as she winced, the ache in her heart flaring up.

_“Focus on the now.”_ the voice tells her. Sometimes (very rarely), it does give good advice.

She lays the bundle next to her porch in a neat pile, taking a moment to pause and crack her back. She wondered if it was worth the walk back to gather some willow bark for her aching bones, before deciding against it.

She walked over to the sea wall, untying the rope holding her fish trap in the water from its post and pulling it back up with a grunt. A red mullet struggled within its wooden cage, thrashing desperately to be freed.

“Aha,” she smiled triumphantly, “Some good fortune at last. Not for you of course.” she says to the fish as she brings it inside, opening the top of the trap and tossing the gasping fish into a metal basin. She took a cleaver from the drawer, holding the mullet down as she sliced off its head.

She grabbed some dandelion leaves and some wild mushrooms, chopping them up and tossing them into the pot of water along with the fish. If she rationed it carefully, the stew could last the whole week.

She left the pot to simmer and went outside, taking another look around.

The sea was calm, the wind whispered in her air, the clouds watched over her... and she was all alone.

She sat down on her rocking chair with a sigh, lighting her pipe and taking a long drag. The pleasant burn from the smoke filled her lungs, filling her with something other than heartache and madness.

Still, she found herself imagining the sounds of the village around her once more. The busy streets, the gossiping neighbors, the growls of the night creatures approaching-

... wait.

Miranda looked out of the corner of her eye to see a man coming down the street, leading a small group of demons. The closer he got, the more she could smell the scent of a forgemaster, different yet similar to her own. His scent smelled of fire, strong and burning. He paused as he saw her, squinting his eyes as if he had to be sure of what he was seeing.

_"Well, this should be interesting"_


End file.
